


His Name Is Dumpster Fire

by ckret2



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, and of course we all immediately embraced him., flint dille invented this character an hour ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 01:57:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16440845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ckret2/pseuds/ckret2
Summary: A dump truck that talks like a duke walks into a Decepticon bar.





	His Name Is Dumpster Fire

**Author's Note:**

> So about an hour ago at a panel on writing Transformers fanfic at TFCon Chicago 2018, someone asked JRo and Flint Dille what it was like writing and introducing a character, especially a villain. Flint went "So, say we have a dump truck, named Dumpster Fire—maybe he's got a blue collar accent or maybe he has a very classy accent like him—" and gestures to JRo, "maybe he wasn't accepted in the Autobots and joined the Decepticons, like a reverse Jetfire—"
> 
>  
> 
> And I could hear the fanfic writers in the audience revving their engines.

"I beg your pardon, barkeep, may I get a glass over here?" 

An entire bar of Decepticons looked to the corner of the front bar counter at the sound of a carefully-cultivated High Tower accent—the sort of accent used by Kaon's upper echelons, the rich and powerful that could go decades without getting closer to the ground than twenty stories—an accent used by nobody who would ever have a reason to join the Decepticons. 

They continued staring at the corner, when they saw no bot who should have such an accent. All they saw was a dull orange and sky blue dump truck, scum coating his legs from foot to knee, an incredibly illegal flamethrower mod newly welded to his shoulder. No tower bots, no filigreed cars or delicate jet wings. Then who'd spoken—? 

"Barkeep," the dump truck repeated, the slightest hint of indignant impatience in his voice, "if you _please,_ sir." 

The bar was silent. No one moved. Who was this mech that looked like one of them, but dared to speak like their oppressors? Was he trying to be one of them—did he think an accent would get him into a golden elevator to a fiftieth floor penthouse? Or had he been one of them, forcibly reformatted and cast into the muck? 

And in either case, did they want to get to know him? 

" _Barkee—_ " 

A mug slammed down in front of him. The dump truck started. "Chug it 'n' go," the barkeeper grunted. "You're bringin' the mood down." 

" _Well,_ " he said indignantly—but it was a false indignance, performed, the way a tower bot performed all his emotions. He knew he wasn't wanted and he knew why. 

Most of the bar had looked away, except for the few nearest the dump trunk and the few looking for an excuse to start a fight with him, and they could see as he chugged his fuel back—as fast as any other dump truck—but he set his shanix down on the counter as gracefully as any tower mech. 

When he'd left the bar, the barkeeper leaned over to inspect his money. He grunted again. "He don't _tip_ like a tower mech." 

**Author's Note:**

> [Also on tumblr.](http://ckret2.tumblr.com/post/179524090827/his-name-is-dumpster-fire-and-he-was-invented-40)


End file.
